


Beat, Incomplete

by anysin



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, Grunkle Ford Is A Jerk, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Rough Sex, Trans Grunkle Stan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 02:03:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14558454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anysin/pseuds/anysin
Summary: Stan and Ford have a fight in the basement with leads to first time sex for Stan. Stancest with trans!Stan.





	Beat, Incomplete

In theory, Stan was supposed to have a normal talk with Ford.

"For hell's sake, Stan," Ford grumbles, straddling Stan's legs as he pins Stan's arms behind his back.

Ford had been in the middle of taking the portal apart when Stan had entered the basement, wanting to talk to Ford more about Ford's plans for the Shack and Stan after the summer. Ford hadn't been willing to chat, Stan hadn't been able to resist being an ass about it. Things had been destined to escalate.

"Right back at ya," Stan says, slumping against the ground with a sigh. He can't believe that the nerd has such easy time overpowering him these days, holding him down with no effort at all. "I just wanted to talk," he says, quiet.

"When have you ever wanted to just talk?" Ford manages to sound tired and snappish at the same time. "I think we have said everything we needed to say to each other. You're just out for a fight." Ford shifts slightly on top of Stan, but doesn't loosen his hold on Stan's wrists. "Really, Stan, you should have grown out of that by now."

How can Sixer say shit like that with a straight face? "As if you weren't happy to go along with it! Fuck, you still are!" Stan starts to squirm against Ford's steely grip, trying to kick out with his legs. Ford takes all of that as a permission to lie down on top of him, curling his legs around Stan's while he continues to hold onto Stan's wrists.

"Well, it's only good if we get to resolve our tensions, isn't it? We're going to live together until the end of summer, Stan. We need to be civilized." Ford sighs. "I'm not going to let you go until I know you're going to be calm."

"I'm not the one who started this!" Stan starts struggling again, trying to roll them both over so he can get back on his feet and leave under his own power. He manages to get up on his knees at some point before he's forced down again, with Ford pressing down harder on him this time. Harder in more ways than one.

"Did you just pop a fucking boner?"

Ford is silent, which is the only answer that Stan needs: he starts to laugh.

"It's not funny," Ford hisses between his teeth; it only makes Stan laugh harder, even when Ford tries to shake him quiet.

"What are you, fucking twelve? We aren't kids anymore, Sixer!"

He's about to say more, but he finds himself going silent when Ford moves his caught wrists into the grip of one six-fingered hand as he slips the other one beneath Stan, to the front of his shirt. Stan gasps when Ford starts to unbutton the garment, pushing a hand inside.

"Hey!"

"I'm not the only one who's hard here, Stan," Ford says to him, voice low, "and I'm going to prove it."

"Ford, don't!"

Ford's fingers dip beneath his undershirt, to the binding that surrounds his ribs. Ford starts to push it down, ignoring Stan's renewed struggles as he forces the material down, exposing Stan's breasts.

"Ford!"

It's been ages since Stan's been touched like this. Ford pulls his hand away from the moment, reaching up to pull Stan's tie open and unbutton the shirt from the collar down to the already unbuttoned part, pulling it as open as it can go before slipping his hand beneath the undershirt again. Stan can't not groan when Ford's large, calloused palm rubs heavily over both of his breasts, over his stiff, plump nipples.

"Didn't I tell you?" Ford asks, leaning closer to Stan. His breath is hot against Stan's face, and Stan's eyes snap shut, his breathing picking up in speed.

Ford's dick is poking against the backs of Stan's thighs through their trousers, pulsing hot even through the layers of fabric. Ford pulls his hand away from Stan's chest for good now, knowing that's not the area either of them are really interested in; he takes it down to Stan's groin, next, starting to ease the button of his slacks open.

"Sixer c'mon, quit it!" It's pointless, Stan knows it's pointless to try to talk; Ford is obviously not going to listen. But Stan can't make himself move, lying still against the floor instead as Ford proceeds to pull his zipper down, his hand soon diving inside his slacks, fingers slipping into the opening of Stan's boxers. They squirm their way in, pushing through Stan's thick, curly pubic hair before one fingertip reaches Stan's clit, and the others reach below for his slit.

"Quit what?" The tip of Ford's middle finger pushes between the folds of Stan's entrance, rubbing along the flesh that has, much to Stan's embarrassment, already become slick. "You want this, Stan. Look at you, you're already wet." Ford yanks his hand away, pulling it all the way back up so he can shove it into Stan's face, so Stan can't look away from the moisture on the large fingers.

"You want this, Stan. You're dying for it." Ford lifts away from him, sitting up on Stan's legs as he tightens his grip on Stan's wrists and starts to take off his own belt with one hand. "And I'm going to give it to you."

Stan listens as the belt slips out of its loops one after the other, and soon it's wrapped around his wrists, pulled tight. He does nothing as Ford's weight comes down on top of him again, even though Sixer is fucking heavy these days and he's making it just a little difficult for Stan to breathe properly. But that is a minor matter compared to the fact Ford is now pushing Stan's pants down, exposing his rump.

"Have you let anyone in there, Stan?"

Stan has to roll his eyes over that.

"You mean, has anyone fucked me in the cunt?" That's obviously what's going to happen here, after all. Stan hesitates before answering, noticing his silence is doing nothing to stop Ford, who has now grasped the waistband of his boxers and is busy pushing them down too. "No, no one."

That makes Ford slow down a bit.

"Good." He backs off on Stan's body, dragging both his slacks and boxers down to his knees and then lower, until they're pooled at Stan's ankles. Stan waits for him to say something more, but Ford doesn't; instead, Ford pulls one of Stan's shoes off and lifts the now shoeless foot out of the pant and boxer legs, gripping it from the ankle as he sets it wide apart from Stan's other leg. Once Stan is spread open, Ford grabs him from both thighs and leans down between them.

Ford pretty much shoves his face into Stan's snatch, nuzzling and nipping at the sensitive flesh as he releases Stan's other thigh and brings the freed hand over to Stan's groin. Ford's thumb feels heavy when it settles over Stan's clit, starting to rub it in slow, circular movements as he sucks at Stan's folds. Soon, his tongue is pushing against the rim of Stan's opening, sliding inside the tight hole.

"Ah! Ford!"

His brother doesn't respond, pressing his mouth tight against Stan's slit like he's kissing it, thrusting his tongue in and out of him as he continues to knead Stan's clit, stopping for a moment to give it a light pinch. Stan moans again, pulling his wrists halfheartedly against the belt binding them; he's not even sure what he's trying to do, what he wants to happen. All he knows for sure are the facts: that he's here with Ford, that Ford is touching him, that Ford is going to fuck him.

All those thoughts make him throb harder between his legs, and he can't stop a long, thin wail from erupting from his throat. That makes Ford smile against him, his hand sliding up from Stan's clit to his stomach, stroking its soft, round curve.

"Didn't I tell you?" Ford's voice is so soft it's almost gentle, and Stan can't help but shiver.

Sooner than Stan expects, Ford removes his mouth and hand from Stan and rises up to his hand and knees, moving forward so he can drape himself over Stan's back. Stan listens as Ford unfastens his pants, trembling over the rasp of the zipper and the shuffling of the underwear as Ford pulls himself out. Ford doesn't press up against him immediately, taking his time to stroke himself instead; anticipation makes Stan grow tense, and he tries to look over his shoulder to get a look at Ford.

"No, Stan." A large hand grasps Stan from his hair, turning his face back forward before pushing it down to the floor. "Don't look at me."

The hand isn't even holding him that tight and it releases him soon, but Stan feels like his face is being rubbed down into the dirt anyway. Ford's fingers trail down from his hair to his neck, then move over to his throat, clasping it lightly as he pulls Stan's thighs even wider apart, his cock poking against Stan's ass and exposed groin as he settles between Stan's spread legs.

When the head of Ford's cock nudges against his entrance, Stan can't help himself; he tenses, body closing up as Ford pushes his hips towards, trying to breach him. Ford isn't daunted by that, taking his cock into his hand instead to guide it firmly against Stan's hole while he runs his fingers through Stan's hair, rubbing his scalp.

"Try to relax." 

Stan considers saying no. He doesn't; taking deep breaths, he forces his body to relax, allowing Ford to slide two fingers inside him to spread him open. The head of Ford's dick follows soon after, stretching Stan wide as it goes in.

It hurts, there's no getting around that. Ford, to his credit, gives Stan time to adjust to his girth, working his way fully inside Stan in slow, rocking movements. Ford's hand finds Stan's clit again, two fingers squeezing it from the sides while the third starts to knead it. His other hand, likewise, returns to Stan's throat, clasping it.

"Stan," Ford whispers, resting his jaw into the crook of Stan's neck. His hips pull back a little before snapping forward again, cock sliding easily inside Stan. He repeats the motion, with greater force; it doesn't take long until Stan finds himself rocking against the ground from every thrust, groin grinding against Ford's fingers with every move.

"Stan," Ford says again, his cheek touching to Stan's; Stan closes his eyes, feeling as Ford releases his throat and moves his hand up into his hair instead, grasping the short, grey locks to pull his head back as his thrusts get rougher. "Don't pretend I'm not here," Ford rasps, and Stan can't hold back from laughing at those words.

"What - ah! - what have you been doing this whole time?" he asks, setting his toes firmly against the ground to get some kind of leverage, so he can do something other than just lie there. He starts to move his hips along with Ford's, following every surge forward and rolling backward with Ford as he tries to sync with him, tries to get this farce over with.

He notices that Ford doesn't try to answer his question.

Instead, Ford secures his hold on Stan's hair, sliding his fingers harder and faster along his clit as he thrusts into Stan, ignoring Stan's attempts to work with him. Funnily enough, _that's_ what really gets Stan's snatch throbbing, clenching around Ford's dick, and sooner than he wants to he's coming, tightening around his brother like a soft and squishy vice as he rubs off against Ford's hand. Behind him, Ford lets out a cry that is almost mournful when he starts to come too, spilling his semen deep inside Stan.

It's that sensation, the rush of hot fluid inside him, that seems to break something in Stan's head, his whole body clenching painfully around Ford's dick as panic floods his brain. 

"Get off of me!" He yanks his hands against the belt holding his wrists together, again when the grip of the leather doesn't give in. "Get this off!"

"All right, Stan, all right!" Ford's dick is still a little stiff when he starts to pull it out, the length of it dragging against the walls of Stan's snatch before it finally slips out. Ford starts to release Stan's hands after that, keeping his movements slow and unhurried. "Try to stay calm, Stan."

"That's so fucking easy for you to say," Stan mutters, grimacing as he feels semen trickle out of his sore, still throbbing hole. He wonders if he's bleeding, if there's blood on Ford's cock. "Was I satisfactory?"

Ford snorts. "You were all right," he says, starting to stand up.

Stan had meant the question as a joke, and he thinks that's how Ford took it, too. He doesn't really have any reason to be unhappy with the answer, but he feels kind of hurt, anyway. "Yeah," he says, standing up himself.

There really isn't much to say or do after that. As he dresses up again, Stan watches Ford go back to the portal, saying nothing more to him. Stan then leaves without saying a word himself.


End file.
